Infatuation
by IMTrinity
Summary: Aragorn becomes infatuated with a certain elf while in Mirkwood. Slash.


Title: Infatuation

Rated: PG-13

Warnings: Slash

Summary: Aragorn finds himself infatuated with a certain elf prince.

The elf is as aloof as the mythical unicorn and as cold as the ice caps of Caradhras yet my eyes rarely stray from him whenever we are in the same room.

He is always polite, yet speaks with casual indifference. He infuriates me and intrigues me. He nods as he passes me in the halls, always seemingly too busy to actually stop to converse with me. The rare times we speak are usually at dinner where conversation is actually quite  
impossible due to the constant chatter of those present.

How I miss the quiet of the House of Elrond. A brief glance confirms that he does have a sprightly personality as well. He stifles an unprincely smirk in his napkin as a male elf tells a joke.

I swallow my wine and avert my eyes lest jealousy gets the better of me. Moments later I resume eating and once more my eyes stray to the prince's elegant fingers, clenched around a silver goblet.

His nails are perfectly cut and smooth, unlike my own which are brittle and perpetually grimy. He appears pampered and then I notice the deep scabbing that is common for one who constantly handles a bow. I look down at my own weathered hands and I can't help but smile. Someone engages me in conversation and Legolas is forgotten for a moment.

***

At night the heat is oppressive and sleep eludes me. I find myself outdoors walking to the practice field. Stopping short, I realize that I am intruding. My elusive elf is here, seemingly preoccupied with his bow to notice me.

I stay very still as the elf damages target after target with his beautiful bow. The night is dark and the target far for my mortal eyes to see yet I know he hits the mark every time. He doesn't turn when he speaks.

"Lord Aragorn, has something disturbed your rest?"

I start, wondering how long he knew I stood there. Stepping closer, I bow respectfully as I answer.

"Highness, forgive my intrusion. I felt the need for fresh air and perhaps a bit of target practice."

Finally he turns to look at me and regards me blankly before responding.

"I assume the hand has healed?"

I look down at my bandaged hand which the foul creature Gollum almost made a meal of and shrug.

"For the most part, yes." My eyes settle on his and for a moment, neither of us speaks. His expression is guarded, yet not unkind and once more I find myself admiring his beauty.

He is casually garbed yet his stance is regal and elegant. He is every bit his father's son, with golden hair and eyes that would make every maiden seethe with jealousy. Yet Legolas is no maiden and could easily overpower and kill me right now if he so wished. And the thought is exceedingly seductive.

Legolas breaks my reverie as he fires his last arrow, barely even looking at the target.

"The field is yours, my lord." Legolas waves in the direction of the targets and walks past me, back to the castle. I let him.

***

My weeks pass uneventfully, yet I am unwilling to depart. The King has already given me leave to stay for as long as I wished. I find the land of Mirkwood interesting and dark. My real reason for staying far longer than I would have is Legolas. I have no goal or purpose in regards to the prince, but I truly wish to know him better.

Unfortunately we are both rarely in the same room and I get the paranoid feeling that he is purposely avoiding me. There is no way to be certain of course, but my instincts are usually quite good.

My musings are stopped short as King Thranduil intercepts me in my daily walk. My curiosity is piqued as Thranduil explains the interruption.

"Lord Aragorn, may I interest you in a private dinner tonight, with myself and my son? There has been very little conversation between us I'm afraid. I realize the Great Hall may not provide the conversation one usually seeks." He appears amused and I cannot help my heart from fluttering as I humbly accept his rare invitation. To dine with the prince- practically by ourselves. I can barely wait till then.

After rummaging in the wardrobe for my most appealing outfit, bathing and combing my hair, I calmly walk  
to the King's chambers, slowing as I spot a mirror and examining my reflection. Satisfied, I knock and am immediately admitted.

Legolas is, unfortunately not in attendance yet so I engage the King in light conversation. Moments later, a knock sounds and Legolas marches in looking slightly perturbed about something. He stops short and appears startled to find me there.

I bow and smile at the perplexed looking prince.

"Legolas, you are very late," Thranduil gently chides. "Our guest is starved." I start to immediately protest but Legolas cuts me off.

"Forgive the lateness father, Lord Aragorn. It could not have been avoided. We had an injured elf on our patrol this eve." Thranduil appears worried.

"Oh? What has occurred?"

Legolas appears to want to sigh, then remembers that I am in the room. Frowning slightly, he speaks of the dangerous arachnids that infest the forest. "Finwë will be fine, it was a small bite." The matter settled, we sit down at the small table, awaiting our meal.

Once more, Thranduil turns to me for conversation. I oblige with news from Imladris and the wilds, as well as my travels with the rangers. Legolas stays silent throughout.

The wine is divine and the conversation, jovial and pleasant, yet my mind and eyes wander to the stoic elf methodically placing food into the perfect mouth, not making any attempt at speech. Knowing this was probably my last chance to really converse with the prince, I pick a topic that I feel would most interest him and take the lead.

"My prince, do you go often on border patrol?" He looks up at me with a guarded expression as he finishes chewing his meat.

"As often as I can. Or when I am sent." He looks down at his meal once more as I refrain from grinding my teeth in frustration. Decidedly stubborn, I persist.

"How young were you when you started with archery? I must admit that it was never my favorite type of sport. I prefer the long sword myself."

Legolas clears his throat before speaking. "I do not remember how young I was- a sword is much easier to learn than archery, which naturally takes some patience and restraint. Not everyone can master the bow as easily as a sword."

I ignore the not-so-veiled jibe at my lack of skill. "You mean like yourself? I have never seen such a shot."

It is Thranduil that responds, surprising me. "Legolas is the finest archer in Mirkwood, in Lorien even," he adds with a slight smile.

"Father." Legolas's voice is low but even. "There is no need to bore Ara-Lord Aragorn with boasts of my skills. He has seen me shoot. He can be the judge of that." He looks slightly perturbed but at whom, I cannot know yet.

I smile, assessing the flustered elf. "You are very modest, your highness. I can only assume your father is correct in his assessment of your skill, for I was barely able to witness it."

He gives me a curious look before turning a glare on his father, who seems to be amused at the situation. Legolas shakes his head and sighing, returns to his meal. A silky braid slides forward over Legolas's shoulder and practically falls in his plate. He flings the offensive pleat back with an annoyed gesture and sits back in his chair, clearly perturbed.

I blink and try not to react to the rare display of exasperation.

A knock on the door sounds and Thranduil excuses himself, apologizing. I am left alone with the clearly annoyed prince and my mind races for something to speak of.

I cough. "Your home is quite spectacular, Prince Legolas. So different from any other."

He turns to look at me and for a moment I fear I have said the wrong thing.

"Lord Aragorn, I have been to your home Rivendell and to the glorious woods of Lorien and I can assure you that your compliments about the monstrosity that Mirkwood has become are entirely unwelcome. Perhaps if you had visited five hundred years ago, I would have believed you sincere. Do excuse me." He leaves without looking back and I am left speechless and more than hurt.

Once more, the night offers no peace or slumber. I make my decision to leave by week's end.

I ignore Legolas at breakfast and I try not to stare at his hands again. Or how differently his hair looks or how well his tunic matches his eyes. I swallow my wine with one gulp and leave the hall.

I write home to let father know to expect me in about three week's time. I make sure to let the King know of my plans as well. Matters taken care of, I make my way to the training field.

The sight I find stops me cold. Two elves are sparring, one with a curved sword, one with long daggers. Both are shirtless and immediately I notice that one of them is Legolas.

He clutches his twin blades, a look of complete concentration etched on his face, as he circles, eyeing his prey. Elves surround the pair, cheering or clapping. I come closer and someone slaps my back in greeting. I have no idea who it is since my eyes are for Legolas only.

The view is spectacular. The second elf looks desperate and slightly nervous as he dodges Legolas's attack. They spar for a few more minutes until Legolas swiftly knocks the sword from the elf's hand. The move was so quick, I barely caught it. Amazed, I clap with the others as Legolas smiles at his opponent, clasping his hand.

The smile is so genuine and surprising that I find myself slightly flustered.

"Who is next?" The clear voice startles me out of my wicked thoughts and I look around in question.

"Let the mortal have a go. I have yet to see him fight," the elf standing next to me states. I start to refuse, then reconsider. I would surely lose and I have no doubt that Legolas would use this to embarrass me in any way he could. And yet, I have wanted nothing more than to be near him my entire time here. I lift my head in acknowledgment and stare at the prince. His expression is unreadable.

Finally, he swiftly nods. He points to his far right. "Choose your weapon, my lord."

I turn and notice the array of swords and daggers lying on a wooden table. They are all beautiful weapons but I immediately pick up the familiar long sword and approach the still shirtless elf. I swallow and try to quell the nervousness that is slowly seeping through my veins.

The crowd, judging from their calls, is clearly cheering for Legolas, which is the norm, I assume. It would not do to go against a prince, of course. I ignore them though in favor of the placid looking elf in front of me.

Though his last match appeared brutally tiring, there is not a speck of moisture on his flawless skin nor any evidence of past exhaustion. I envy him this as I know I am mismatched.

Being a mere mortal and completely blind as to the prince's talents, I cannot possibly match him for skill or speed or even strength. I can only imagine that that is the only reason he did not object to the spar.

My heart is racing as I take my spot and nod to Legolas. He points one of his daggers at me.

"Take off your shirt."

Dear Elbereth. I set my jaw and slamming my sword into the earth, I pull off my shirt, letting it fall somewhere to the ground.

I lock eyes with Legolas and find myself disappointed as his eyes never waiver or move from mine. Of course it is unsurprising, though I would have expected _some_ curiosity from him. I hide my sigh and bow to the prince, who does the same in return.

I attack first since I know for some reason that he is the type to bide his time. I could see it in his eyes. Elves rarely attack first, or so my brothers taught me.

He easily blocks and parries the strike. The sword is sure and heavy in my hand and I feel exhilarated at the sparring. I have missed it I realize. Legolas is the epitome of calm and his movements are precise and practiced. He is a seasoned warrior, far more skilled than either of my brothers, I realize with a trace of worry.

I put the thought out of my mind. I would worry about being humiliated later. I block an attack and jump back as both of the sharp daggers come within inches of my chest. I swear Legolas smirked at that.

Gritting my teeth, I try to put all my effort into this fight. It lasts longer than even I anticipated. I hear the crowd cheering. I hear my name at least twice. The thought gives me hope as I see that I can hold my own against the deadly prince.

My thoughts come prematurely as I feel a sudden burning pain on my upper arm. I flinch and the oncoming attack immediately stops. An arm is wrapped around mine and my mouth opens of its own accord.

"Do not move. Someone fetch a healer!" Legolas swears under his breath and my heart skips a beat.

"It is not terribly deep but it will bleed fiercely until it can be stitched up. Come with me." I am unable to speak so I nod and follow the hurried prince back towards the palace.

I notice his hand is still wrapped around my bleeding arm and the perfect ivory fingers are marred with trails of red.

"Highness, your hand. Allow me." I pull his hand loose and use my free hand to staunch the bleeding. I should have done that to begin with but I must have lost my mind somewhere back there. Legolas looks down at his hand and shrugs.

"It is no matter." He doesn't even attempt to wipe the blood off. I swallow and follow him into the castle and we are met half-way by a concerned looking healer.

"Your highness? What has happened?" Legolas ignores the healer and strides past him towards the healing wing. I follow as does the bewildered healer.

Finally, Legolas turns and speaks to the other elf. "Lord Aragorn has been injured. One of my blades- I didn't realize-" He appears flustered and he just waves his hand towards my arm. "It was my fault entirely. Just, attend to him before he bleeds to death!" he spouts in flowing Sindarian. I frown and attempt to calm the prince.

Instead, he walks up to me with an almost remorseful expression.

"Lord Aragorn, forgive me." Then he is gone. I turn to the healer, bewildered.

"The prince is rarely out of form." I sense the question, though I am entirely unsure as to how to answer.

"It was an accident, of course. Perhaps the both of us were too much obsessed with beating the other."

The healer laughs. "Legolas has never been beaten."

I look down at my bleeding arm. "Don't I know it."

Legolas is not in the hall for dinner. Random elves approach me and congratulate me for not succumbing to the match.

"You put up a good fight Lord Aragorn!'"

"Aye! A fine match. Very entertaining."

The positive jubilation lifts my spirits but I ache to speak with Legolas. He is most likely feeling guilty and I desperately want to reassure him.

***

I suppose I am feeling brave as I find myself in front of the prince's door. Almost hoping he does not answer, I quietly knock, and wait. The door is opened almost immediately though I never heard a sound from the other side.

I look sheepishly at Legolas who is clearly surprised to find me at his private chambers.

I bow slightly. "Highness, forgive me for intruding, but I wish to speak with you, if you have a moment?"

Legolas gives me an almost bored look as he debates whether to let me in or slam the door in my face. Finally, he steps aside and I murmur my thanks as I step into the place I have secretly wished to visit.

The room is surprisingly simple. A massive bed with an opaque canopy sits in the middle, neatly made up. A small writing desk and what appears to be a wardrobe are the only other pieces of furniture. I notice a comfortable looking chaise in the corner near a beautifully ornate window. Legolas's bow and quiver sit carefully atop it.

"How is your arm?"

I turn at the sound, remembering where I am.

"My arm is fine, highness. No permanent damage, I assure you." I smile to reassure the prince. Legolas looks slightly uncomfortable for a moment, then nods and looks away.

"I suppose I am out of practice," I continue. "Though I admit, I relish a good fight." I cannot help but smile at the memory. If Legolas had pierced my heart, I may not have noticed, so engrossed was I in the elf's presence.

"You fight very well, Lord Aragorn."

I can't help but beam at the compliment.

"Thank you, highness. And just Aragorn, if you please. I am no Lord."

Legolas frowns. "You are a son of Lord Elrond."

I shake my head. "Yes, but I have earned no title."

"Not yet anyway."

I cock my head at the statement.

"I want no title." Once more, Legolas looks unreadable and I wonder, for the first time, how much the elf knows about my heritage.

As if reading my mind, Legolas speaks. "Gandalf once told me that no one can escape their destiny. Hiding will do you no good."

I do not know whether he was directly talking about me, but I take immediate offence.

"I am no coward. I choose my own life and I would not imagine a pampered prince to know what I speak of."

I silently curse at my lack of control and inappropriate tone- and with the King's son, no less. I await the forthcoming rebuke. It never comes.

Legolas does not look incensed or affronted. He actually appears...pleased. His mouth curls into a small, but mischievous smirk and his eyes narrow at my discomfort.

"My, my, he does have a temper."

I immediately put up a hand. "Your highness, I apologies for my words. I-"

"Silence." I cease to speak and look uncertainly at Legolas, his arms crossed and inspecting me as if I were a troll.

"Why have you come here?" The question surprises me and I subconsciously lick my lips. Why _did_ I come here? I can hardly remember. My confusion must be quite evident as Legolas made a noise that resembles a laugh, though I cannot be certain. I feel my cheeks flush at the heavenly sound.

Feeling humiliated beyond belief, I turn towards the door to quickly leave. I am stopped by the softest of touches. A finger on my shoulder, delicate and weightless- yet renders me suddenly immobile. I look up in confusion, but Legolas's face is impassive.

"Good eve, Aragorn." He spins on his heels and walks away as I stumble out of his room, barely breathing. I practically run to my room before barring the door and sinking to the floor. My breathing is ragged and my heart is racing.

I feel utterly foolish and lost. The way he said my name, the smile! I groan and thread my fingers through my hair, disheveling it even more than it was.

Damn this infatuation! Why him? Why does he affect me so? No matter how many men I have bedded, no matter how many times, nothing has made me feel the way I feel when he looks at me. What I would not give...

My hand reaches down of its own accord. I groan at the hardness, ripples of pure pleasure roll through my entire body as it is Legolas's face I envision. But Legolas is not here. Nor would he ever be.

My eyes snap open and I curse. Loudly. What a damned fool! Legolas, heir to Mirkwood would never, in his right mind, even contemplate having anything to do with an inferior unimportant ranger, a mortal at that.

I bang my head against the rich wood door, uncaring of the impending headache. No, not when my heart is lurching in greater pain.

Why did I ever come here? Gollum. Yes. This was all Gandalf's fault. Sending me on a pointless, useless mission. If he could see me now. I shut my eyes.

"Fool!" Exhausted beyond belief, I scramble off the floor and fling myself onto the bed. I am asleep before I even realize it.

***

"I thank you for your hospitality, your Majesty. My stay here has been more than satisfactory," I lie and continue. "I will take my leave with fond memories." I smile at the monarch and silently pray to be off already.

Thranduil regards me with an unreadable expression and he looks so much like Legolas that I nearly look away. I have avoided the prince for two days and await my leave, as soon as Thranduil spits out his goodbyes. I know I am bitter but I am also anxious to get away from this land.

"We were pleased to have you here, Aragorn. I do not know where my son is but he will be most sorry to see you go."

I nearly cringe but end up smiling instead. "If I see him, I will say my goodbyes."

"Fair journey then! Do give Elrond my regards." He smirks and walks me to the door. I turn around and bow low.

"Thank you, Highness, farewell." I step out of the room, fully intending to sprint out of there.

"Oh and Aragorn," I stop, glancing back. "Have no worry. We will keep good watch over that foul creature."

I plaster a smile on once more, thank him and march down the hall.

I walk briskly along the empty corridor. Still barely past dawn, I don't expect anyone to interrupt me. I spot Legolas's door up ahead and quicken my step.

A noise startles me and before I realize what is happening, a hand grabs at my arm and pushes me into a room, slamming the door shut. I immediately reach for my sword but I am pushed against the door and I find myself speechless as to my aggressor.

Legolas stares back at me, his eyes practically glowing with delight. Speech eludes me and I can only stare in confusion.

"Leaving so soon, and without a proper farewell?"

His tone is full of sarcasm, but before I can form a response, his lips are on mine. I still, shocked beyond belief. My body immediately reacts and I am helpless against the assault. I hear a moan and realize it is my own. Legolas pulls back, flushed, his pupils dilated.

"Sweet Elbereth, I knew you would taste this good."

A million questions pop in my mind, but my body has other thoughts. All it knows is that this is the exact position it has wanted to be in ever since it set eyes on the bewitching elf. I allow the body to take over.

My arms wrap around Legolas's and I pull him to me, immediately savoring the blissful heat of his body against mine. He whispers my name as he kisses my throat, nipping and suckling. I turn into mush as he threads his long fingers through my hair, massaging my scalp.

"What do you want, my prince? Legolas? Tell me..." Another kiss silences me.

"Say my name again. I want to hear it from your lips."

"Legolas..." I oblige, capturing his lips. Our tongues fight for dominance and I could care less who wins. I pull on his hair and it is exactly as I imagined it would be. Smooth as silk- and the smell! I move to breathe in Legolas's scent. My nose is in his hair and I hear a delightful chuckle.

He pushes back, keeping one arm on my chest. "Aragorn, I would have you."

My eyes shut and I moan at the implication. I lick my lips and look at Legolas in desperation. I glance once towards the giant bed and Legolas does not miss the quick peek. He sends a seductive glance at me and grabs the front of my tunic, guiding me over to the bed. I find myself on my back, staring at Legolas as he removes his own tunic, throwing it carelessly out of the way.

"Gods, yes." I waste no time in placing my hands on every square inch of skin I can find. There is only one word to describe the beauty that is Legolas; flawless. His skin is silkier than the sheets that we lay on and he has no scars or marks of any kind. I suddenly wonder if Legolas is still a virgin, for it would not surprise me in the least. He has not shown interest in a single elf, male or female, as long as I have been here. His next question however, certainly settles that question.

"I admit myself ignorant in the ways of humans, but I have no preference one way or the other. Do you wish to top?"

My heart skips a beat at the question. I look up at the expectant elf and sigh. My manhood leaps against its restraints and I would take Legolas right at the moment if I could. But for perhaps the first time in my life, I actually want someone to lay claim to my body in that manner, and I realize, it can be no one but Legolas.

"We take turns," I reply huskily. Legolas smiles down at me in agreement and I melt once more.

He leans down and whispers in my ear. "I would have you first."

I groan and push up against him. He will hear no complaints from me. He is undoing my tunic and breeches. I lie still, willing my heart to slow its beating, but not caring if I were to die at this moment. It would be worth it. I smile and shut my eyes, letting Legolas take over, for the moment.

***

The sun filters brightly through the windows, heating my face. I open my lids, weary and exhausted. I have no wish to move and yet I realize that it has been at least a few hours since I entered Legolas's bed chamber.

I shift slightly and an arm swings lazily over my chest. I smile as I look down at the limb and I trail a finger lightly down the length, from shoulder to elbow, descending to the silky digits.

A sigh escapes the still sleeping elf. I turn my head slightly and my heart lurches at the sight. The beams of light hit his body just so and his bare torso seems darker, tanned, like my own. His eyes are shut, which surprises me.

His beautiful hair has come loose from its braids and bindings and I am sure he would be appalled at his state. I however, find it to be the most gloriously seductive sight.

I smile again and lean in to whisper into his ear.

"Legolas."

His eyes snap open and he stiffens for a moment before realizing where he is. All signs of sleep are gone from his face and he looks down at me with question.

"Forgive me, my prince. The day grows late and I must depart. Your father thinks I left already."

Legolas laughs. "He will be none the wiser. I will take you out to the stables the back way. You will not be seen."

For a second I feel as if Legolas is ashamed of me. Then I remember that I am dealing with the King's only son and I am sure he would not take so kindly to what has occurred between us.

I nod and move to find my clothing. Legolas follows suit and in a matter of moments we are both dressed and he is fixing his long locks, removing any last trace of what has transpired.

I swallow as I look at him and the feeling of morose overcomes me. I am to leave, and he will continue on as if I never existed. The feeling depresses me and I turn away, lest Legolas reads my face.

"Are you ready?"

I nod and walk to the door.

"I must stop at my room and gather my things."

We move silently down a passage that I have never seen before. It is barely lit, yet Legolas easily maneuvers his way through, never pausing nor looking to see if I still followed. I swallow down my bitterness and continue on.

We finally emerge through the tunnel to a larger stone room. Legolas walks to a large set of doors that look impossibly heavy. He, however has no difficulty opening them and gestures for me to follow.

Light hits my face and I am blinded for a moment. I blink and realize we are already outdoors. Moss and vines cover our path but Legolas easily glides his way through.

Eventually, we emerge at the stables. Thinking Legolas would take his leave, he surprises me by entering with me.

"Which one is yours?" he asks me.

"I have none, I came here on foot. It would have been impossible with Gollum. Your father told me I may borrow one from here."

Legolas nods. "Of course." He leads me to the back where a beautiful brown mare awaits a rider.

"She is swift and strong." I nod and stroke the horse's mane.

"My thanks, highness." My voice does not betray me, for that I am grateful. I start to attach my belongings as Legolas brings a saddle.

I take my time, attempting to prolong the moment. Unfortunately, Legolas helps and I am ready to be off in no time. I carefully regard Legolas, attempting to keep my face as impassive as his.

He reaches out and grabs my shoulder. I swallow and follow suit to formally wish the elf farewell. I try to smile but I fail and turn to the horse instead. I feel a hand on my shoulder and I turn back in question.

"I could feel your tension from the palace to here."

His statement irks me and I grit my teeth.

"What would you have me say, your highness?"

"That it was more to you then bedding the Prince of Mirkwood."

My eyes grow wide and I turn to him in disbelief. His insecurity is evident in every word.

"I am sure your highness is astute in his perception of every situation and would not so easily be fooled", I say carefully. My eyes lock with his and I wish with all my might to erase the unease on his face.

Legolas nods briefly and lowers his head. Immediately I reach out and cup his face with both my hands.

"Legolas", I whisper. "You don't know what you do to me." I kiss him and he lets me, lifting his arms to my waist. The kiss is gentle but unwavering as I desperately try to erase all traces of unease. I pull back and give him one more kiss on the cheek, for good measure.

He smiles then and it must be contagious, as I flash him a toothy grin in return. He steps back and indicates to the horse. I sigh and bow slightly, for formality sake, and mount my horse.

I look down at the prince whom I thought indifferent and snobbish, and shake my head as I realize that I could not have been more astray.

"I hope our paths cross once more, Lord Aragorn."

I smile at that. "Aye. They may yet."


End file.
